


Running from Memories

by lady_olynder



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: it's a wonder more planeswalkers don't have ptsd, sparking is traumatizing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-09 22:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20517236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_olynder/pseuds/lady_olynder
Summary: Three years ago, on a desert plane, Sypheh almost met her end, instead becoming a planeswalker. Today, she struggles with dreams and memories of that event, and tries to find her place in the multiverse at large. But as the healing process begins, a familiar face rears it's head, and she is forced to confront her past again, though this time she is no longer alone and has the support of her friend Pythos.





	Running from Memories

_The desert sun beat down on Trinepan, providing harsh sustenance to the world. Under it’s warmth, plants and animals flourished in the cruel light. But nothing on Trinepan could grow too accustomed to the sun’s light, for complacency led to exhaustion and death._  
And it so it was that the azra Sypheh found herself. The sweat had long dried from her violet skin as she wandered, lost, hopeless. She considered abandoning her long, thin scimitars, but knew that if she didn’t find a safe oasis by nightfall she would need the both of them. And if she found a caravan, they could be offered as payment for safe passage, as they were all she had left besides the robes she wore. She hoped that any travelers would give her aid without payment as was customary, but she could never be too reliant.  
_And so she trudged forward, hoping to find relief. Hoping to find safety. Hoping to find a place to call home._  
_The sun was low by the time she found what may have been safe harbor for the night, sheltered from the cold air that would sweep the land not long after the sun had fully crossed below the horizon. _But she was wary, as all from Trinepan were when coming across an oasis. For while oases could provide food, shelter, and water, if one was not careful, they could be dragged beneath the surface to the depths by the ruthless merfolk that dwelt in many such pools of water.__  
_Steeling her self, she finally approached, her hunger and thirst compelling her despite unease. With tentative steps, she carefully made her way inward. Hands on the hilts of her scimitars, she cautiously glanced over the edge of the water. Seeing no motion, she gingerly knelt down and cupped water in one hand to drink, keeping the other on her sword._  
When no motion came still, she drank to her content, then turned to pluck a fruit from a nearby tree.  
_But before she could reach out her hand, there was a splash and she felt herself being dragged backwards, downwards, deep into the water, deeper than she thought possible. Around her echoed laughter, as webbed hands grabbed at her horns and her limbs, holding her still despite her attempts to struggle. One particularly malicious merfolk oriented himself so his face and hers were even, a look of exhilaration on his face as her reached for her throat and began to squeeze. “Don’t worry traveler,” he whispered softly. “This won’t hurt me a bit.”_  
_Vision faded, and coldness enveloped her, as the other merfolk abandoned her, all save the one holding her throat as they sank deeper still, his laughter betraying his thrill at this.  
_But just as all was almost black, as all heat was gone, a light of warmth burst in her chest, and she was no longer in the water. She was falling through a void, somehow without direction, yet still downward, spiraling down, eternally, down, down, down... _ _

_ _ __ _ _

_ __ _

Gasping for breath, Sypheh bolted upright, clutching her chest. She reached up gingerly, and felt her neck. The wounds from three years ago were barely noticeable anymore. She glanced over, her scimitars, the only thing she had left from Trinepan left rested gently in the corner. For three years she had been a planeswalker, capable of traversing between the worlds of the multiverse. But such power had only awoken in a moment of great trauma, when she had nearly died on her home plane. Since then, she had traveled to many worlds, before eventually settling on Kylem, a place where combat was safe, where killing was expressly forbidden in the arenas that she fought with her new friend Pythas, a loxodon from Ravnica.  
Yet despite the relative safety of this world, her dreams were still haunted by visions of the day her spark ignited. Much like the scars on her neck, it would be a long time before the memory fully healed, but she hoped that one day she could sleep without troubled dreams.


End file.
